Moaning

Ever get those moments where you think you’re gonna break

And what you’ve been planning falls dead on the deck

With an albatross around its neck, and you’re struggling

To find shore? Long questions and short answers

When everybody wants to know what’s coming next –

Well what do you expect? I could answer with adventure,

A flightless bird whose certainty leads to doubt

And even then I’m not so sure. I want to laugh

And collect in my arms what makes me feel alive

But I forget all that when I’m lost, and joy

Slips by. I don’t know. I just graduated.

 

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The Young Mind

The young mind explodes

Into a destructive blaze of glory

Able to shatter glass

And break chains.

The young mind can take what it wants,

Watch the world with weary eyes

And challenge it.

The young mind stands on dreams

And is not afraid to fight for them.

Despite uncertainty

And fear

The young mind explodes

And smiles.

A Sentimental Moment

Do you remember Italy?

I waited on the staircase for you to arrive

Watching the blue hour settle in

And the moon come on the rise.

 

The hour started fading

And you came down all draped in white

And I knew the city would shine

In the pale glow of beauty’s light.

 

My smile showed my sincerity

Doomed to someday break apart

But in that moment

I felt contentment in my heart.

 

And all the plans we have

Will someday be torn into two

As you go your way

And I stand feeling blue

 

But in this hour we’re together

And we know where we stand

As we wander the streets of Italy

Walking hand in hand.

The Graduate

All these contemplative melodies

Can soothe obsessive maladies

That tremble and shake me to my bones,

But all the words of vagabonds

Burn so bright and then they’re gone

And I’m back to being fearful and alone.

 

Twisted rhythms, crooked rhymes

Help me through the trying times

When my head is spinning like a moving wheel,

Cold nights fall to dawning days

They throw their jewels then fade away

And I’m left wondering how I really feel.

 

I envy Ahab and his whale

Even one so doomed to fail

A prisoner determined to succeed,

At least he had a goal to chase

I’m sitting in a silent place

Waiting for a call to come to me.

 

I’ve got confusion coming from my eyes

Towards the charming cloudy skies

About which road I should follow all the way,

Like anyone thrown out to the world

Left to voice their own concerns

I’m struggling to find a thing to say.

Early on the 13th

Early on the 13th

I heard the church bells down the street

I saw a reflection in my lover’s eyes

I caught the sun breaking through the curtains.

 

I thought of dedications and declarations

Hymns and poetry and movements like wine or ivy

All short enough to ensnare attention.

 

And I wondered if I’d found balance

Or if I’d stray like abstracts or jazz,

If I lit down in a country of romance

Would I meander like a fickle tourist?

 

Things crowded my mind

Early on the 13th.

Coming from the Cold

I got lost on the way

Didn’t know what for

Looking for a side road

I’d never seen before

 

I wanted to call you

Exhausted in my pride

But forgiveness was out of hand

And shame so close behind

 

I’d come to you with teary eyes

If I knew you’d take me in

And I’d drop to my knees to tell you

How good it felt to be back again

 

By the burning stove

I told you all my tales

All the times I reached the top

And the many times I failed

 

You looked at me with pity

I came to you with pain

Didn’t matter about the story

The ending stayed the same

 

All the forgiveness you could hide

I searched but I could not find

Those words you’d buried deep inside

They hit harder than any of mine

 

I wandered from this life

I strayed far from this love

The pieces all lay scattered now

Beneath the foreign sky above

 

I offered my understanding

It’s easier now to see

The reason why we began at all

And the fact we’re finally free

Ideal Party

The parties I want to attend

Throw champagne in your face in disgust

Then scratch your car; and

They play something smooth like honey

On the speakers. You talk to a narcissist

Until you’re ready to beat them with the bottle.

No matter your turn of phrase you somehow manage

to demean and offend the artistic upstart

who you’ve been listening to for the last hour.

You fall into the pool

And the ripples make the moon light dance

All around You. Then you stand in a dripping

Blue suit, smile, and walk out.

Motel Blues

False cowboys take up motel rooms.

You’re in that weary state where you mumble phrases

Like: “I don’t know man” and “just give me the key”

And you want to wave goodbye

To the ugly landscape. The person at reception

Tells you the pool is closed. There’s no barrier around the pool

But you don’t want to take a chance. There’s one room left.

 

A cowboy stands idle under the sad yellow light

Blackened by flies and acting forlorn.

You know for a fact his mind’s on the steak he had

When he was seven and his father came home early.

 

Motel rooms scream secrets

But you’re too tired for degeneracy – anyway,

The mayor of a nearby town is entertaining in room 207

Dressed as a gigolo Santa in July. Never the less,

The orange heat of the dawn sun

Coming through the blinds in the desert morn

Is as welcoming as any waterfall.